Heroes Among Cubicles
by SequinedRedPoppy
Summary: Heroes and The Office crossover. When the employees of DunderMifflin get called to New York City for business with another paper company, they think it's just a routine sales. Little do they know that it's so much more. First chapter kinda skiddy.
1. Chapter 1

Heroes Among Cubicles

Author's Note: _My original first chapter had absolutely no detail to speak of, so I decided to crumple it up and start from scratch. Episodes up to "Parasite" ("Heroes") and "Cocktails" ("The Office") Talking head interviews in **bold italics.**_

Disclaimer: _I own absolutely anything but my own ideas._

(P) (A) (C) (E)

The light of the sun flittered into the square work space, shining light in all directions. Every so often, a beam would go into Pam Beesly's eyes, blinding her, but only momentarily.

Jim Halpert looked up at the office's receptionist, who also happened to be his best friend, watching as she patched a call through to Kevin. No doubt it was his fiancé; lecturing him _again_ that she had saved the last Dunkin' doughnut for herself.

Jim continued to stare at Pam as she clapped over her Solitaire victory. He chuckled, causing Pam to look up. Panicked over his spying, Jim quickly pretended to flip through a wad of files on his desk.

'_Oh my God! He was looking at me!' _ Pam cheered in her head. That was another small memory she was banking in her head. But the happiness was soon interrupted as Karen walked over to Jim's desk and began to teasingly twirl his hair around one of her fingers. Pam's thoughts briefly flittered to a song she had heard on the radio that morning as she drove to work.

"_Hey, hey, you, you, I don't like your girlfriend! Hey, hey, you, you, think you need a new one."_

Leave it to Avril Lavigne to write yet another song fitted so perfectly for her love life.

(S) (P) (A) (C) (E)

Karen was incredibly awesome, there was no use denying it. But there was something about her that was turning Jim off her a bit. He thought of those multiple choice tests they used to administer in high school.

**Why was Jim no longer so infatuated with Karen?**

She was too much like him, and maybe the old saying, "Opposites attract" was true.

Their attraction wasn't so strong anymore now that they were officially "together."

He was still hung up on Pam.

Jim was pretty sure that the answer was "C". But it wasn't fair to Karen, or to Pam for that matter. Who really knew what would happen if he told her that he was still in love with her? Besides, she was with Roy again. At least, Jim _thought_ she was still with Roy. There was a rumor circulating around that Roy had a bit of a temper tantrum at Poor Richard's and Pam had ended it with him.

(S) (P) (A) (C) (E)

Meanwhile, in Michael Scott's office, everyone's fearless leader was just about to get off an important call. At least, it seemed important in his books.

"Okay," he said into the phone. "Alright, Mr. Thompson, I'll see you then. You sound like a very cool guy and I'm positive we're going to be great pals."

"I'm sure," the voice on the other end murmured. "It was nice talking to you, Mr. Scott." Michael proceeded to hang up the phone with a howling "YEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!!!!!!!"

He ran out of his office, slamming the door open and causing his employees to jump in fright.

"What is it, Michael?" Pam asked, thinking that something was the matter. Of course, with Michael, something was ALWAYS the matter.

Michael smiled. "Have any of you ever heard of Primatech Paper?" His eyes scanned the room.

"Um…..no," Stanley said in his usual, monotone. Michael's face fell slightly.

"It's in _Texas_," he grinned, knowing this would impress the crowd. It didn't seem to.

"WOW!" Dwight practically shouted when he noticed his boss's disappointment from the lack of excitement his statement was brought. "Chalk up one more victory for Dunder-Mifflin Scranton!"

That seemed to cheer Michael up. 'And….." he continued, wanting to add suspense, "They specifically asked for, Pam, Jim, Dwight, Ryan, and I to drive down to their branch in New York City tomorrow!"

Everything was completely quiet for a second.

"Sure," Jim said, breaking the silence.

"I'll go," Pam chimed in. Jim looked over and smiled at her. Karen's face flushed, either from jealousy or the supreme heat of the room.

"Why do they want us?" Ryan asked. Michael raised a finger to shut him up.

"Don't ask questions, Ryan," Michael commanded, "That's just as bad as you not respecting my leadership. And do you remember what happened last time you disrespected my leadership?"

Ryan shivered. He did _not _want to get ANY closer to Kelly than he already was.

"Fine," he murmured, "I'm coming.

"Excellent!" Michael exclaimed, walking over to Dwight's desk, drumming his fingers on it as he did so. "And I _know _I can count on my main man Dwight, can't I?"

Dwight looked up at Michael, his face as serious as he could muster. "Actually, Michael, I can't. Rumor has it that a police officer from Los Angeles is flying in to Scranton to investigate a recent murder in the area, and it's my job as the company's security official to assist her."

"_Volunteer _security official, Dwight," Jim lightly reminded him, "You're a _volunteer _security official."

"Do not question my authority, Halpert!" Dwight spat. Michael shook his head.

"It's cool, Dwight," he said, "You stay here and do your CSI thing, and the four of us will party it up in the city that never sleeps!" He looked around.

"Am I right? Who's with me?"

Everyone turned silent again.

(S) (P) (A) (C) (E)

Jim concentrated on Dwight as he poured coffee in his mug from the company's machine. It had been a long day, and he had not made his co-worker scream in rage _once_. He was losing his touch.

So he carefully raised himself from his desk chair and quietly walked over to the break room. Dwight hadn't even noticed that Jim had entered the room until Jim began to speak.

"Hey, Dwight," Jim waved. Dwight looked up in surprise, spilling his coffee and shattering the mug in the process.

"Damn it, Jim!" he snapped, not even motioning to clean up the mess. Jim covered his mouth to suppress his laughter.

"Sorry, buddy," he smiled, sitting down at a nearby table. Dwight started to leave his room, but Jim began to speak again.

"So, Dwight," he began, "I've got some questions for you."

Dwight paused. "Proceed."

"What's the name of this police officer?"

Dwight thought for a moment, trying to remember the report he had downloaded off the internet the previous night.

"Audrey Hanson," he answered.

"And what exactly is this murder investigation involving?" Jim's lips were curling into a crooked smirk.

"That's classified information that must not be shared with the public."

It was all Jim could do to not burst out laughing. "Well, what are you going to do if this murderer shows up again?"

"Uh, _fight him_," Dwight said, as if this should be obvious.

"What if he has a gun?"

This was a question that Dwight could not answer.

"_**I didn't really consider what would happen if this guy should return to the scene of the crime," Dwight said, "I imagine that Ms. Hanson will give me some sort of weapon. I'm really more partial some of the more classical tools, and not the new things that the police force issue. But if I think about it, I could probably take the culprit on with my bare hands. They didn't give me my purple belt in Goju-Ryu so I could freeze up when some criminal is threatening the area I live in. One time, a guy was trying to steal my garbage cans, and I attacked him so brutally that he almost had to go to the hospital. My street has a new garbage man now."**_

(S) (P) (A) (C) (E)

Meanwhile, in New York City, Peter Petrelli was having rather vague thoughts about the situation at hand.

_How did this man come in contact in Suresh? Was his family safe? Who else has this man killed? Was he himself going to be the next victim?_

Unfortunately, the feeling of what felt like a razor blade going through his skull was much too painful for him to further investigate these ideas.

Sylar was chuckling wildly at Petrelli's anguished screams, but was getting frustrated with the young man at the same time.

Every time Sylar tried to make the wound on Peter's forehead deeper so he could get what he was craving, that wonderful, wonderful brain, it would just constantly heal itself. Even his hair was growing back from where it had been sliced off. It eventually became so tiring and frustrating that he let out a scream of what sounded like defeat and raised his finger away from Peter's forehead, letting the man drop to the floor, completely exhausted.

Sylar stomped over to Suresh's mahogany desk and rummaged through the drawers, looking for a roll of duct tape. After he found what he had been searching for, he dragged a nearby chair over to Petrelli. His new mission was to keep Peter captive until he figured out how to get inside his head.

Literally.

Unfortunately, Peter wasn't where Sylar had left him.

His eyes quickly scanned the room, until he finally found Peter making a hasty exit to a nearby window.

"Not so fast, my new friend," Sylar laughed. He raised his hand and threw it to the left in a sweeping motion. Peter flew across the room and hit a tall bookshelf, knocking him unconscious long enough for Sylar to tie him to the chair.

As Peter's eyes fluttered open, the fury in him began to flow more rapidly.

"Let me the hell out of here, you SON OF A BITCH!" he roared.

Sylar leaned over him and smiled. "I can't do that. Not until you give me what we both want."

"I want you to let me go!" Peter screamed. A cool, warm liquid dripped onto his lower lip. He looked up and realized that he had been tied below Mohinder's beaten body. More blood dropped into Peter's open mouth. He spat in disgust and looked at Sylar again.

"I. Don't. Know. What. You. Want," he said slowly and through gritted teeth.

"Then I guess we're going to be here for quite a while," Sylar mused.


	2. Chapter 2

Heroes Among Cubicles

Disclaimer: _I still don't own both of these amazing shows. Lucky NBC._

(S) (P) (A) (C) (E)

The next morning came bright and early. Everyone on the sales call (Plus Karen, who Jim didn't want to be felt left out) piled into Ryan's Chevrolet for their drive into the city. Most of the employees were exhausted for having to get up to make the seven 'o' clock departure time.

Michael, however, was ecstatic.

"This is going to be great," he kept saying over and over again from the passenger seat.

Seeing as no one was trying to make conversation, Michael began talking again.

"Hey, who wants to play I-SPY?" he asked. Everyone looked at him as if he were insane.

Seeing that the no one in the car had had the courage to, Michael decided to go first.

"I spy with my little eye….." he began, looking around for something he could use.

"An idiot?" Karen suggested from where her head lay on Jim's shoulder. Jim's shoulders quaked from a small giggle, causing Karen's own laughs to vibrate a little bit.

Michael turned silent after that.

"**_They're just over-excited," Michael said to the cameraman, who was crammed into the backseat with Jim, Pam, and Karen. "I mean, it's NEW YORK for crying out loud! _**

(S) (P) (A) (C) (E)

And in Angela Petrelli's apartment, Claire Bennet was adjusting to the fact that she was standing in her maternal grandmother's apartment. Of course, this could mean that might mean that Peter Petrelli was related to her somehow, but Claire was going to cross that bridge when she came to it.

"Are you sure I'm your granddaughter?" she asked. Angela smiled slightly and nodded.

"I'm quite sure."

The colors in front of Claire's eyes began to blur, making it so it seemed as if the Haitian's dark skin and cream-colored shirt had fused together.

"H-how?" she stuttered.

"That is not important, now, Claire," the Haitian said in his accented voice. "We have to leave immediately. It's not safe for you here." He stepped forehead and grabbed his charge's shoulders, squeezing them slightly as if to say, 'Don't worry, I'm here to protect you."

That's when Claire finally snapped. She slapped the Haitian's hands off of her and turned to face him.

"Why?" she all but screamed, "Why isn't it safe for me here? Why isn't it safe for me _anywhere_? I'm indestructible, remember? It's not like anyone can hurt me!"

Then, realizing that she had revealed the secret that her father had tried so hard to keep hidden in front of this new woman who she knew almost nothing about, Claire clapped her hands over her gasping mouth.

Mrs. Petrelli came up to Claire and hugged her. This surprised Claire a bit, but she made no struggle to break free.

"It's alright, Claire," her grandmother whispered. "I already knew how special you were."

This comment, however, made Claire back away. "Excuse me?"

The Haitian glared at Mrs. Petrelli and shook his head angrily. Mrs. Petrelli merely smirked at him and turned back to Claire.

"You have your father's eyes," she murmured, twirling a lock of Claire's golden hair between her fingers. Claire back away and narrowed her eyes.

"I hate that you're keeping secrets!" she said, "Tell me what exactly is happening or I'm leaving, and whoever's after me can finally have his wish."

To prove her point, she began to stomp towards the door. However, the Haitian stepped forward and blocked her path. Claire huffed loudly and crossed her hands over her forehead.

Mrs. Petrelli was smiling again. "It'll all be explained, Claire. Just as soon as your father is here."

Claire's mouth hung open. Her _father_ was coming? Her father was supposed to be lying in a hospital bed with half his memory missing. Unless………

"What do you mean when you say _my father_?"

"I mean your father," Mrs. Petrelli answered, "My son."

That's it. Claire's breakfast was no longer going to be able to stay put in her stomach.

(S) (P) (A) (C) (E)

Dwight was clearly having a better time than Miss Bennet. He had arrived at the sheriff's department bright and early for the arrival of the new officer.

When he first saw her, Dwight was a bit surprised. Miss Hanson was not what he was expecting her to be.

Maybe, he supposed, that he believed all female police officers to be tall, beefy, and moderately ugly.

Audrey Hanson did not belong in any of these categories. She was short, only reaching to Dwight's shoulders at best. Her body was frail with almost no curves to speak of. And she was fairly attractive as well.

"Officer Hanson!" Dwight called out, raising his hand to flag her down.

Audrey looked up and began to walk towards the strange man calling her name, her pearl-toed boots making faint _click'_s on the linoleum.

"Are you the man I'm supposed to meet?" she asked as she came up to Dwight. She was drumming her fingers on a nearby marble desk, something Dwight personally found very irritating.

"If you were sent to meet Dwight K. Shrute, than I am indeed that man," Dwight said proudly, though secretly surprised this higher officer knew him.

Audrey's face turned blank and she shifted her weight from one foot to another. It was clear that she felt she was in an awkward situation.

"I think there's been a mistake," she told him. "I was supposed to work with a man named Harold Goldman."

Dwight couldn't believe his ears. _"Harold Goldman_."

"_**Harold Goldman is an idiot," Dwight said in the police department's lost-and-found room. "He never did anything in his whole career as an officer. Than one day, some homeless man decided to rob a doughnut store with a steak knife he found in a restaurant dumpster. Guess who was in that doughnut store. That's right, I was. So I decided to call the police department for backup, and guess who they sent. That's right, they sent Harold Goldman. So he's the big hero around here while I'm the joke. I would have handled the robber myself, but I didn't have my nun chucks with me."**_

"Let me get old Harry for you," Dwight volunteered, wanting to be of SOME help. Miss Hanson nodded impatiently and Dwight trotted off to Goldman's office.

As usual, the officer was sitting in his desk chowing down on a blueberry scone. 'What kind of policeman eats a _blueberry _scone for breakfast?' Dwight wondered.

"Um, excuse me, Officer Goldman?" Dwight said, knocking on the doorframe. Harold looked up and saw Dwight there.

"Yes?" he asked, spraying scone crumbs across the table.

Dwight scowled at him, showing his disgust. Just then, Audrey Hanson appeared behind him.

"Harold Goldman?" she said. Goldman nodded again, causing his brow to furrow.

'_This guy looks like an idiot,' _Officer Hanson mumbled. Dwight wondered at how she was able to make a snide comment without making her lips move. Possibly she was a ventriloquist.

He smiled at her. "I agree."

"Excuse me," Audrey snapped, one of her hands in the air.

"You called Harold Goldman an idiot," Dwight explained, "I was agreeing with you."

Audrey's eyes grew wide, and she cupped her head in her hands.

"Oh no, not another one," she groaned. Again, her lips were not moving.


End file.
